


morning class

by 111100111



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 14:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21055841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/111100111/pseuds/111100111
Summary: Jeremy is a college student, when he meets a familiar stranger in one of his classes.





	morning class

Jeremy adjusts his collar, the bottom of his shirt, he checks his phone, brand new Star Wars case Michael gave him as a present, off Ebay somewhere. He can’t help checking his phone these days, his nerves eating at him, looking for notifs or apps or updates to distract his anxiety with. To see how was Michael’s Women’s Studies I exam at the other side of the campus. You would think he was over digital pocket pets, but you would be wrong.

  
Cool, just act cool, this isn’t high school, cool here means relaxed, not self-made. Right?

  
A guy walks by him, walking at a fast pace, leather jacket and coffee in hand.

  
“Watch it.”

  
And it feels strangely familiar to him, that tone of voice, that icy glare.  
But it can’t be, hasn’t been for two years now.

  
The squip is stored away, gone, deleted, in the depths of his mind and soul, and the utmost most embarrassing high school memories he can have.

Right.

It wasn’t. All that bad… okay it was pretty bad. But he keeps thinking of this, and he holds his phone tighter in his hand.  
The class is full and as early as he was, mysterious guy had been right in quickening his pace. Everyone seems to know of this routine except him, so maybe he should really take a hint and avoid morning classes if he couldn’t sit in front. Rows of people in hoodies, sleeping behind their macbook pros, coffee in one hand and red bull cans on the other.

  
And it’s only week three.

  
He takes a seat, wouldn’t you know it, next to Mr. Leather Jacket himself.

  
“Hey.” He says, completely oblivious he was about to throw his latte all over Jeremy’s head just a while ago.

  
Jeremy is confused by this, but this isn’t high school, so they’re all on equal footing. Sort of.

  
He says hello back, probably expecting Mr. Leather Jacket to ask him for his notes or something. Things are different but not so different.  
But nothing happens and Dr. Crowley begins her class.

  
There is a noise of paper and keyboard smashing, a few grunts and coughs as she speaks over her presentation. Jeremy opens his own macbook pro, a relic from his teen years that is undoubtedly, always something that will remember him of something else. Something.

  
“I think I know you?”

  
Mr. Leather Jacket whispers and stares at him.

  
“I don’t think we met? I bumped into you outside.”

  
“Oh.” He says, looks back at his latte, warming it from one hand to the other. “Oh.” He mutters again, his mouth in one small ‘o’.

  
Jeremy takes a second to grasp the guy’s face. Jet black hair, black eyes, looks cool. Maybe he is one of Michael’s friends or they have the same dealer?

  
Will Jeremy ever know.

  
He tries to go back to paying attention to Dr. Crowley’s class, but his dear old laptop is still stuck in startup mode. He hisses under his breath, and it comes out as a whine.  
Leather Jacket smiles, his own mac pristine and polished and last edition. He types away absentmindedly, only to open a tab for something else entirely as he checks his phone. Jeremy is the one staring now, but he can’t help it. Maybe he does know the guy.

It’s a weird epiphany, when it hits him from where and who he reminds him off. Hits him like a cold shower but leaves him burning. It is certainly impossible and as these things go, completely irrational for it to be happening at all, outside of a science fiction book or movie or game, right here in an east coast college.  
It’s uncanny at best, will bring Michael shivers later when he tells him at lunch. These things are not to be texted about, both of them know what technology can access and do to your data. Jeremy had first experience, and if magic was real, he was looking at it.

Class is a blur and then it’s gone, everyone lifting from their seats, folding their laptops under their arms and carrying their thermos and bag packs out of the way to their next coffee refill and class.

Dude gets up, throws his jacket over one shoulder. He looks so posed, a movie star in a world of hoodies and one week leggings. Soon that will too change, Jeremy thinks, he too starting to dive into lazy college mode, procrastinating his laundry for a week now.

  
“I’m Simon. You?”

  
Jeremy didn’t ask but he smiles at him, finishes collecting the rest of his stuff.

  
“Jeremy, I huh—I’m a computing major.”

  
One perfect eyebrow rises. They’re outside now, near the vending machines. Simon fidgets at something in his pocket.

  
“Interesting. Thought you guys didn’t like actually dealing with humans.”

  
Jeremy isn’t even hurt, just kind of flushed at the teasing.

  
“I’m a psychology minor… though it’s tressing to see in how many ways can human minds fuck up.”

  
He laughs.

  
“You’re right. Lots of ways human minds can surprise you.”

  
And his eyes flash, or so Jeremy thinks.

  
“Hum what about you?”

“Heh, you know… I have done a bit of this and that.--”

  
(--Nervous—why is he making Jeremy nervous?)

  
“—But I’m a computer engineering major.”

  
Simon puts in some change in the machine and it rumbles as something green clanks against the glass.

  
“Why psychology then?”

  
He shrugs, takes his can out of the machine, opens it, sips it.

  
“I guess I just think humans are interesting?”

  
Jeremy adjusts the strap of his bag pack, not really having much to say. He looks down at his shoes and the same striped shirts he has worn since high school.

  
“Well I have lab now.” Simon drops the can in the trash, grabs his things again, nonchalantly. “See you around Jeremy? Maybe you’re in some of my other classes.”

  
“Yeah maybe.”

  
He is not a friend, barely an acquaintance; he is someone Jeremy’s first instinct was to fear and recoil at the sight of. But it’s nice to strike conversation with someone that isn’t Michael (as much as he loves him), his dad, Christine via email or the same three dudes he and Michael play fortnight with, whose nicknames end in a series of numbers or cuss words or both.

He collects himself and checks his phone, clearly looking busy and popular to the people around him, he thinks. Except, this really isn’t high school, so that shit doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just him who is this awkward, no one else has ever done the ‘looking at phone’ trick before.  
He is just trying to digest what happened, he tells himself. There is nothing wrong with that.

  
Michael still hasn’t answered, but that’s okay, he will grab something to eat on his way to his next class.  
He checks the trash out of curiosity.

  
He doesn’t care to be right or wrong, but is insanely curious and he knows the anxiety will just creep and creep at him until it quenches its thirst. But he has to know.

  
Mountain Dew.

Of course.

**Author's Note:**

> technology and magic never mix, or do they.


End file.
